


Obedient Servant

by ghostofgatsby



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, BDSM, Crying, Depression, Dom/sub, Graduate School, Hurt/Comfort, Kneeling, M/M, Praise Kink, Queerplatonic Relationships, Self-Esteem Issues, Service Kink, Service Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:31:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby
Summary: Alex stands up, shaking his head and scrambling the papers on the floor into his arms. "I can't, Burr, I'm sorry- I just can’t," he continues."Hamilton-""Tests are coming up next week. I have a month until I graduate and my grades can't be what they are now. They're not bad, but if I can raise my gpa just a smidge higher, then I can-""Alexander," Burr snaps, and Alex loses all the breath in his lungs at the dominant tone in his voice.His hands shake where he clutches a stack of student papers. He has papers to grade, he has things to do, but Burr wants to dom him right now? Is he serious? How is that going to solve-Burr holds out his hand. "Make me a list, Alexander," he says.And it's an order.Alexander Hamilton’s mind runs faster than the speed of light. Sometimes, all that overworking only serves to make him a mess of a man- and Burr gets tasked with picking up the pieces.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to shake loose writer's block, so I thought I'd try something different.
> 
> Never posted in the Hamilton fandom before, so-  
> Hello, I'm ghostofgatsby! I'm commonly in the Yogscast/HatFilms fandom but ever since I listened to the brilliance that is Hamilton the musical, I, too, have been swept into feels about dead founding fathers. I'm always up for talking Hamilton headcanons- in the comments, through email, or at my blog at ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com! Thanks for taking the time to read this, too, it means a lot to me- let me know what you think ^^.
> 
> cw: depression, bdsm, anxiety and self esteem issues. if I need to tag anything else, let me know.
> 
> poly sci? law? grad students Burr and Ham? I dunno.
> 
> Ham’s safeword is “Nevis”
> 
> reblog: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2016/10/07/obedient-servant-ghostofgatsby/

"Hamilton..." Burr sighs and scours the bedroom with a sour expression, "What kind of mess have you been living in _now?_ I go away for a weekend, and your room has turned into a hurricane. _Please_ tell me you've left this place other than for class?"

"Uh..." Alex stares at Burr from a pile of laundry and papers on the floor, wondering why his fellow grad student has mysteriously appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. Oh, right- Burr has a key to his apartment. Alex gave it to him when he moved in, just in case he forgot his or locked himself out, but ever since Burr has used it to check up on him.

Burr sighs and shuts the bedroom door behind him, walking closer to Alex and cringing at the mess he has to step over to get there. Pizza boxes, takeout cartons, clean and dirty laundry, papers...frankly, it’s disgusting. Alex is sort of surprised he doesn’t have ants by now. Or maybe he just can’t see them under the piles of stuff.

"I wanted to know if you had eaten dinner yet...because you never answered my text around five,” Burr continues, peering down at him with his hands on his hips. "I would have texted earlier, but I had study sessions to lead after six. Which...you should know."

"Oh. Right. Right...uh-" Alex frantically shoved around his nearby papers. Fuck. Phone? Where was his- “Aha!” It was wedged under a binder. He quickly checks his messages and curses again. Fuck. Burr had texted him at five, and it was _eight thirty_ , now. Once again, he’d thrown off their regular dinner plans.

Alex sighs and tugs a hand through his disheveled, tangled hair. His fingers get stuck and he sets his phone down to pull the hair tie loose and redo it hastily. "I'm sorry, Burr, I've gotten caught up in my work. I should have noticed my phone but it got hidden under all this. I have so much to do..."

"I can see that," Burr drolls, "and you never answered my question. It's late now, but if you haven't eaten, we can go get something.” Burr, ever the one to reorganize his life around others. Fuck, what a mess it must be to stick to _his_ schedule.

Alex stands up, shaking his head and scrambling the papers on the floor into his arms. Maybe the desk would prove a better work space? Having everything spread out wasn't doing him any advantages... "I can't, Burr, I'm sorry- I just can’t," he continues.

"Hamilton..."

"I have papers to grade, and papers to write. I'd love to get food with you, really, but I won't be done by midnight, Burr. I'm sorry."

"Hamilton _-_ "

"Tests are coming up next week. I have a month until I graduate and my grades can't be what they are now. They're not bad, but if I can raise my gpa just a smidge higher, then I can-"

" _Alexander,_ " Burr snaps, and Alex loses all the breath in his lungs at the dominant tone in his voice. The tone is one that Burr uses when they- well, for lack of a better word, _fuck_. But it’s not fucking, and...well, Alex doesn’t like to think about it because he doesn’t have a definition, and if he doesn’t have a definition he can’t explain himself, and _for fuck’s sake_ it was hard enough to work out the right word for his sexuality in the first place-

His legs tremble as he straightens his posture. “I-” he starts.

Burr stares back at him, eyes dark and impenetrable in their seriousness. "Give me a list,” he orders.

Alex's hands shake where he clutches a stack of student papers to grade. "I- I’m sorry?" he stammers. His ears are ringing a little, he’s dizzy with the order, because _he has papers to grade, he has things to do, but Burr wants to dom him right now? Is he serious? How is that going to solve-_

Burr holds out his hand. "Make me a list, Alexander," he says again.

It's another order.

Alex swallows thickly and turns his back, throwing the binder-clipped papers to his disaster of a bed. The sheets are half pulled-off every night because of all his squirming in them. If he slept, he had nightmares. It was simply a fact of life.

Alex bends over his desk, already feeling the twinge in his sore muscles from never sitting down and never standing up straight. He quickly scratches down everything he needs to do from now until graduation onto a piece of paper that he hopes is just scrap. He feels Burr's silent stare at the back of his neck, waiting. When Alex finishes writing he straightens up as much as he can manage and hands Burr the list.

“Have you eaten?” Burr asks, eyebrow raised.

Alex shakes his head no.

Burr moves closer. He scoops a set of keys off the desk and tosses them his way. Alex’s shaky hands bat at them, dropping them once before picking them up.

"Go get yourself something to eat." Burr says gently.

"But-"

" _Go_ , Alexander." Burr fixes him with a level stare, and Alex shuts his mouth and nods.

Burr's face softens from its seriousness with a small smile. "Go on. The fresh air will do you good. Get something to eat, and you can shower when you get back."

Alex wraps his fingers tight around his keys and slinks out of his apartment like he’s been sent to exile. He frowns in embarrassment and fatigue. He should be able to take care of himself. Burr doesn’t have to tell him to eat or shower or- or anything else. He doesn’t have to dom him in order to make Alex stop working himself to death.

Fuck. He should be able to take care of himself, but it's obvious he can't. His hair is greasy and wispy, tied back into a ponytail, and sticking unpleasantly to his neck with sweat. He must have worn these clothes...how many days in a row?

Alex hopes people don't think of him a mess while he's out. But of course they will. A brilliant mind, but he can't even take care of himself. _Fuck_.

The self-doubt is creeping up his throat, and Alex wills it away as he walks. No time for that now. No time for being stressed or thinking about what failures life can give you. You've come this far. You're not throwing away your shot, you're _not_.

The walk from the apartment to the little diner off-campus is enough to clear his head a little. His eyes no longer feel dry from staring at endless papers, but the chilly spring night makes his nose start to run. The diner is too warm. The heaters must be on max, or all the ovens cooking, because the room is stifling. Alex would take off his sweater in an attempt to minimize the sweat rolling down his spine, but he’s not wearing a shirt underneath. All too aware of his greasy appearance, he slides into a booth at the back of the diner and waits for a waitress to take his order. His reflection in the windows looks harried and disheveled. He looks like he could have been scraped off the stovetop in the kitchens. _Fuck_ , he really needs to get himself together...he can’t keep doing this...

The diner serves fresh omelettes 24-hours a day, and the coffee is always on the house. It was where he and Burr met. Alex couldn't shut up, never can when he talks to someone he admires- he introduced himself and sat down, barely asking if the spot was taken. He’ll never know how Burr managed to put up with him ever since. “Talk less, smile more,” Burr had said before parting that day. Over the course of Alex’s grad program, he hasn't talked less by any mile, but he knows he's smiled more where Burr is concerned. It's a tentative friendship- relationship?- but it's one he thinks of fondly.

Alex smiles to himself and picks at the peeling plastic on the laminated menu in front of him. He tries to forget the piles of work waiting for him back at the apartment. It has to be done. The list he gave Burr is printed on the backs of his eyelids. He wonders if he'll have time to sleep tonight, and reminds himself to order a pot of coffee. He’s going to need more than a cup to get through this.

The waitress takes his order, and Alex chews at a nail and stares out the window. Thursday night, and the streets are empty. He thinks of Burr, wondering what exactly Burr wants from him. Alex can’t help but think there’s something _more_ to it, there must be something more- there always is with people. There has to be more that Burr wants from him, has to be more he can do for him. Anything he does isn’t enough, he has to do it all, and do it all right the first time. He came to America to be successful, and that success won’t come overnight, he has to work for it, and he has to-

One thing simply doesn’t satisfy a man- _he’s_ never been enough for anyone before.

But Burr is...well, Burr. When they started this... _thing_ between them, they sat down and had an egregiously painful discussion about what they wanted from sceneing. Alex had avoided every question, but Burr had been patiently frustrated with him the entire time. They sat, uncomfortably close and uncomfortably too far on Alex’s bed, and Burr made him bare out what he needed. And Burr shared back in kind- it was a two way street, this dom/sub thing, and for that Alex was more than grateful. He could see parts of himself that would be all too easy to take advantage of. He wanted to please people so badly, prove himself so badly, and all that...drive and ambition could be his downfall. All Burr wanted was to make sure he knew who was in charge- in scene, he doesn’t need to think about all the things he has to do. He has to trust Burr to take care of that worry, take it off of him.

It’s not an easy thing, to hand someone all your insecurities and trust them not to hurt you. But Alex found surety in Burr’s voice. His _dom_ voice, more specifically- the slight change in tone that meant nothing but order and...protection. He felt...safe, and cared for. It was such a strange thing to think about someone’s tone of voice, but Alex knew in these scenes that his only task was to do as he was told the best that he could. To be good.

Alex sighs to himself and takes another gulp of his coffee only to find the cup empty. He slowly pours himself another cup from the coffee pot. The steam rises out the spout and he reaches across the table for more sugar packets. His mind strays again to the work he left behind. He starts thinking of things he could use in that essay he needs to write by next Wednesday. Maybe if he scrapped the last paragraph and instead added another rebuttal before his closing paragraphs...

Alex takes out his phone to jot down his thoughts and notices he has a text from Burr.

“Alexander-” the text reads, “NO WORKING. I know what you’re like. You need a break! So, put the phone down. And go easy on the coffee.

“Listen: I want you to think about what you need from me, tonight. NOT what you need to do as far as work, what you NEED from me as far as in a scene.

“I want to help, alright? If it’s too much tonight, then you can say so. You’ve got a word for a reason, Alex, and I’m always okay with you using it, alright? Text me when you’re on your way back. -A.Burr”

Alex sighs. His thumb hovers over the N on the touchscreen keyboard, more than ready to type in his safeword, because he has so much work to do, doesn’t Burr understand that? He doesn’t have time for games or play, he’s- he’s got to finish things, he’s got to...

The protests evaporate from his mind like the steam piping up from his coffee. Because he wants to give in to it, he does. He’s so _tired_ of this, of school, of everything. He’s _so tired_ , but he can’t stop working, can’t stop pushing himself, can’t stop going, going, going- he doesn’t know what’ll happen if he stops. He can’t dare to think of what would happen if he failed.

Alex puts his phone away as the waitress slides his plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. He takes his time eating, trying to think up a response that Burr wants. Or- well- what he himself needs from Burr. He’s never really been good at this part- the negotiation. He always wants to go, go, go, because once he’s in place and the scene has been set, it’s easy to slip into the feelings and forget about his issues. It’s easy to submit to Burr. It’s never easy to tell him what he wants. But if there’s one thing Burr is that Alex isn’t, it’s being motherfucking patient as _fuck_.

“i think...” Alex types in response, greasy fingers smearing the touchscreen on his phone, “i wanna kneel tonight. i need to kneel. please let me kneel.” He swallows thickly, fingers pausing, rereading everything he’s typed and blushing in embarrassment. Alex looks around at the mostly-empty diner, afraid maybe someone will oversee his phone screen or overhear his thoughts.

The elderly waitress who served him is wiping down tables at the far end of the diner.

Alex looks back to his phone and takes a deep breath, continuing, “i want. i need you to tell me im good, that im worth it, that im. that im doing somthin right. just tell me im important, fuck, tell me im not a fucking waste of space. i need reassurance that what im doing is valuable, that i have value, fuck. fuck, burr, i just...”

Alex bites down hard on his lower lip, because his throat’s getting tight with emotion, and he will _not_ cry, not here, _not now_ , he’s not going to fall apart in this _fucking_ diner at the dead of night, he’s _fine_ -

“fuck i just need you,” Alex types, and hits send before he can erase everything in panic.

 

When Alex returns to his apartment, his bedroom is impeccably cleaned. The surfaces are spotless, the trash has been taken out, and the floor has been swept. His mind shrieks internally at the sight of his desk- bare, without his disorganized chaos cluttering the surface- but when he looks at the bed he's noticed Burr has sorted it into careful piles. The man has all the skills at reorganizing that Alex has never had. Alex trusts things will be in somewhat order, if not a perfect match to his previous haphazard arrangement.

The laundry, also, has disappeared, Alex notes, and at this thought is where Burr steps out of the bathroom.

“There you are.” Burr smiles and shoves a towel into Alex's arms. “Take a shower, Hamilton. Your clothes are in the dryer, and I'll get them shortly.”

Alex nods and takes the towel from Burr's hands. He wonders why he hadn’t heard the laundry running when he walked in, but he’d been too busy wrapped up in his own thoughts. "Burr..." he starts, unsure how to give the man adequate gratitude. He’s terrible in showing his affection for the little things Burr helps him with. He can hear the shower water running already- he isn’t sure if he’d be worse with or without Burr’s gentle prickliness about taking care of himself better. “Burr,” he tries again, but for once his brain can’t manage the words. _fuck I’m such a mess, I’m sorry- you shouldn’t have to take care of me again and again- I don’t deserve all the kindness you give me when I’m nothing but an annoying piece of shit-_

Burr simply smiles back and pats him on the shoulder. “Take as long as you need, Hamilton,” he says.

 

So Alex does, basking in the heat of the spray as the shower water thuds into his shoulders and back. The heat and water pressure is perfect. He’s ninety-nine percent sure he could fall asleep in here, if his mind still wasn’t running faster than the speed of light. He takes a deep breath and then another, trying to get himself to calm down. _Come on, one thing at a time. Shampoo, soap, rinse, done. You’ll be where you want to be, soon,_ he tells himself, holding onto that thought he’s had for a long time, _you’ll be where you want to be someday. You’ll be there someday. You will._

 

Fresh out of the shower, Alex approaches Burr in a hoodie and boxers. Not exactly work clothes, but none of his clothes were designated for that, anyway. He’s slept in all his clothes before and gone to class in all his “pajamas” before. There wasn’t a separation. Like a lot of things- his work life, his school life, his social life- everything’s mixed up. Everything’s a mess.

“Settled?” Burr asks him. Alex nods slightly. His mind is a little less angry at the prospect of getting something done. He feels better about himself, at least physically. He’s not greasy or hungry- just tired.

Burr nods back. “Good. I have your list, here...” He gestures with the paper in his hand. “If you need direction?”

“Yes?” Alex wants Burr to tell him what he can do, already. He’s itching to work, because there are things to be done, and only he can do them to the best ability. Done right, and successfully.

Burr hums and scans down the list. “All these things except grading the papers aren't due tomorrow.”

This was the truth. But he can’t just let all his other work go. Alex opens his mouth in protest.

“ _Correct_ , Alexander?” There's the hint of dominance again, the steel to the words, the purr of his full first name on Burr's tongue.

“Yes,” Alex answers, desperately wanting to rush ahead, add sir onto the end of that agreement and sinks to his knees. Because, okay, Burr’s in charge- Alex wants him to lead, at the very least so he can follow. So Burr will let him do what he needs to. “Yes. Yes, let me-”

“The only thing you're going to do tonight is finish grading these papers, and get some much needed sleep. You need _rest_ , Alex. You can't push yourself like this, endlessly, or you're going to burn yourself out.” Burr frowns, and there are deep-set wrinkles between his brows.

Alex nods emphatically. “Yes. Yes, I'm sorry, I know- I should know better, and I do- I'll make it up to you, Burr. I can be good-” He holds his hands out for the papers but Burr silences him with a thoughtful stare

“Hamilton,” Burr warns. _Be patient_.

Alex lowers his hands to his sides and tries to keep his breathing in order. He wants, and wants, and _wants_ so badly. He's always been searching, reaching out all his life, chasing impossible goals, because he just...he _can't_ fail and he _can't_ not succeed. It's hard to do as Burr wants him to do. It's hard to wait.

Burr watches Alex silently until he’s calmed down enough. “Can you ask me nicely?” he questions, eyes determined but revering.

“Can I have my work back, please?” Alex asks softly.

Burr nods and hands him his papers. Alex sits down at his desk, and immediately starts working.

Burr leaves him be while he does. Alex can hear him puttering around behind him- putting away Alex’s clothes and changing the sheets on the bed.

Fuck, Burr puts up with too much of him- why does he always have to be a burden on Burr's success?

Alex sighs and shakes his head, burying himself in work instead of dwelling on those thoughts. _It’s just laundry. Just being helpful._ The words are what Burr’s reassured him a thousand times. It doesn’t quite stick all the time.

The open window blows cool night air through the room. rustling the papers that Alex gladly accounts for and reorganizes as he works. Everything is back as it should be. He aches to start on that essay he knows is coming up. But Burr gave him orders, and he has to follow them.

Well, he doesn't _have_ to, but he’d agreed to this situation when they first discussed it. He knows, in the long run, it’ll be better for him. And he wants to be good. He wants to prove to Burr that he can be good. That he's worth more than just "Alexander Hamilton" to one "Aaron Burr".

When all is finished for the night, Alex stands and puts his papers away to hand back to his students tomorrow. He's halfway through sitting back down at his desk before he remembers himself and looks up at Burr sitting on the edge of his bed.

Burr himself is in boxers and an old worn t-shirt. He looks up from his phone and meets Alex’s eyes. “Ready for bed?” he asks. Alex takes note that the sheets are crisp and no doubt smelling clean and freshly laundered, and there's nothing else he wants to do more than sink into them and sleep.

Well...maybe one thing.

He pushes his chair back in and turns off the light. The clock on the bedside table reads 12:01 am. He's never been to bed this early in...a long time.

“Alexander,” Burr calls, softly, smiling.

Alex gladly sinks to his knees and front of him. The rugs have been moved closer to the bed, so the laminate hard wood beneath them won't dig into his knees so much, nor shock his feet with cold when he wakes up. He lets out a long sigh as he settles back on his haunches in front of Burr, head bowed and cheek pressed to the other man’s naked thigh.

“Good boy,” Burr murmurs. He caresses his cheek, and Alex leans into the touch. “You don't have to extenuate your mind to be successful, Alex,” Burr reminds him gently. He tugs out the tie in Alex’s hair and cards his fingers through the soft locks. It’s so soft, after his shower, and Burr’s fingers against his scalp feel like the best reward.

"Burr, sir..." Alex whispers.

"Shhh. Just kneel for me right here. Just for a little while. You've done well, Alexander."

Alex smiles and closes his eyes. That's all he ever wants to hear. From Burr; from everyone.

The feeling of Burr’s fingers in his hair lulls him into a drowse.

Burr bends over and pecks a kiss to Alex’s forehead. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers.

Alex feels a sob rising up at that, and he presses his mouth against Burr’s knee to muffle any sound that might escape between his lips. _Proud. He can’t be. He can’t really be._ Alex doesn’t realize he’s crying softly until Burr starts shushing him and wiping away his tears.

“Come up here,” he says.

Alex lets Burr tug him up off his knees. They get under the covers, and Alex slots himself into bed next to Burr.

"Burr-" he chokes, reaching for him and clinging onto his shirt like a life preserver, "Aaron-"

Burr shushes him, petting his hair and pulling him close. "Shhh, go to sleep Alex. You deserve the rest."

Alex, not Alexander, not Hamilton. Just Alex. He only ever gets to be "Just Alex" around Burr.

With a pleased sigh, Alex tucks his head closer to Burr, and closes his eyes.


End file.
